


Unwrapped

by goodluckgettingtosleep



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bickering, Boys Kissing, Canon Era, Court Sorcerer Merlin (Merlin), Domestic Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:40:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28816503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodluckgettingtosleep/pseuds/goodluckgettingtosleep
Summary: Arthur doesn't think Merlin's wardrobe is appropriate dress for a court sorcerer, and Merlin really doesn't want to look like a posh prat.For the prompt: “What the fuck did you do to all of my clothes?!”
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 164
Collections: Merthur Fics





	Unwrapped

**Author's Note:**

> "for the prompts you were taking: i thought 10 with merthur?? ;))) love your work <3<3<3"
> 
> 10\. “What the fuck did you do to all of my clothes?!” 
> 
> hi. i'm back to my roots. the og fandom. the one i will likely still write for from my retirement home some day. anyway. i loved this prompt and it kind of developed a life of its own, so i just rolled with it. enjoy xx

Merlin is not having a great day. Well, to be fair, it only just started, but he can’t find any of his usual clothes, so it’s already going pretty badly. 

Arthur forced him to move into his own chambers in the castle, right next to his own and Gwen’s, and while Merlin complained about it being too pompous, he does enjoy the comforts of his shiny, new bed, of course, with actual mattresses that provide him with a nightly comfort he never experienced before in his life. So, naturally, he sleeps really well now. And the fact that he doesn’t have to get up at ungodly hours in the morning to tend to Arthur’s every need anymore helps, too, of course. 

Merlin is not used to having people clean up after him, though, and to have people rummaging through his stuff and reorganising them when he’s not there. He sends servants away quite frequently, getting annoyed when his things suddenly aren’t where he put them anymore. He doesn’t know how Arthur can stand this, but he supposes that the king simply never knew anything else. He never had to clean after himself, after all. 

So, anyway. Merlin can’t find his clothes. His breeches are all gone, his favourite red and blue tunics are gone, and his lucky neckerchiefs are nowhere to be found. Instead, there are expensive looking robes, tunics made from fine linen, velvet neckerchiefs and leather breeches, all in shades of dark blue and purple. Merlin hates them. They’re beautiful, but Merlin hates them anyway. He isn’t some posh prat, and he doesn’t want to look like one. It’s bad enough Arthur insisted on making him a lord, telling him that he couldn’t be court sorcerer without a title. Does he actually need to look like one as well? 

Grunting, Merlin pulls out a dark blue tunic, black leather breeches, and a dark blue velvet neckerchief. He gets dressed in a few quick movements, before storming out of his chambers and a few metres down the corridor to Arthur’s, bursting in without bothering to knock. Arthur is in the middle of eating his breakfast, dropping a sausage when Merlin’s abrupt entrance startles him. 

“What the fuck did you do to all of my clothes?!” Merlin snaps, crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

Arthur smirks, his eyes wandering over Merlin’s expensively dressed body. Merlin hates the blush that rises to his cheeks, and he crosses his arms a little tighter, glaring at the king. 

“Those rags? I’ve had them cleaned out. They’re hardly an appropriate dress for Camelot’s official court sorcerer. What will visiting nobles think? That I have a servant pivoting around the council?” 

Merlin huffs. 

“Those were  _ my _ clothes! I paid for them myself. You had no right! My lucky neckerchief is gone!” 

Arthur snorts, turning back to his breakfast. 

“Actually, since I’ve been paying you all these years, I’m pretty sure  _ I _ paid for them. Just as I am now. Also, that red rag isn’t gone. I told the servants to keep that, but to give it a good wash. I’m sure it’ll be back with you shortly. Don’t you dare wear it to council meetings, though.” 

Merlin glares a little harder, pouting, but he’s secretly happy that Arthur thought of keeping his lucky neckerchief, even though he clearly hates it. 

“Well, okay… thank you, I guess. Still doesn’t change the fact that you had all my clothes thrown out without asking me first!” 

Arthur takes a bite from his piece of bread. 

“I didn’t have them thrown out, I had them donated to people in the lower town. They might be peasant clothes, but they’re perfectly fine clothes. I’m not a wasteful king. No need to just throw them in the bin,” he explains. Merlin knows he’s slowly running out of arguments, so he huffs and shakes his head. 

“People already think I’m your  _ favourite _ or something, that you take me to bed when you feel like it. This will only fire up the rumours,” he argues. 

Arthur stops chewing, drops his bread and starts coughing rather violently as he chokes on his bite. Merlin rolls his eyes and waves his hand in his direction, using his magic to prevent Arthur from dying again. Choking on bread really was no way to go for a king. 

“They think  _ what? _ ” Arthur wheezes when he’s no longer coughing, his eyes watery as he stares at Merlin, eyes wide. 

“They think you’re bedding me, occasionally. That I’m your side-piece. That you like getting into my breeches,” Merlin repeats slowly, smirking when he spots the red blotches on Arthur’s cheeks. 

Arthur clears his throat and averts his eyes. Several moments pass in silence, and Merlin knows Arthur in and out but he can’t tell what is going through the king’s head, and he finds that a little unsettling. And then Arthur suddenly gets up from his chair and walks over to Merlin, who is still standing close to the door. Merlin’s eyes widen a little when Arthur doesn’t seem to stop, so he’s forced to walk backwards until his back collides with the door. Arthur looks like he’s out hunting and Merlin is his prey.  _ Oh. _ He swallows. 

“Well,” Arthur growls, “If they already think that…” 

“What?” Merlin squeaks. His brain short circuits the next moment, when Arthur suddenly presses his lips against the side of his neck. “What?” he squeaks again. He meant to  _ tease _ Arthur, to win this little argument about his clothes, he didn’t think the king would—  _ what?  _

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur says, voice rough. The sound sends a warm, fluttering sensation just beneath Merlin’s ribcage. “Be my  _ favourite _ . You want this, don’t you?”

Merlin won’t lie. His brain is in overdrive, but he can’t be expected to lie, can he? 

“Yes. But—” Merlin starts, but is immediately cut off by Arthur’s lips crashing against his with a grunt. Arthur kisses him roughly and Merlin kisses back, feeling like he could probably take on the entire world, but something feels off. Whenever he imagined this, and he imagined this a lot over the years, it never really went like  _ this _ . This is rough, and far from gentle, and Merlin doesn’t know why Arthur is doing it in the first place. He wants this, he wants it so much, but not like this. 

So he pushes Arthur away, keeping his hands firmly on his chest as he meets his eyes. 

“Arthur,” he says, “I  _ do _ want this. But I need to know— why? You seem kinda angry, and I have no interest being your punching bag just to get it out of your system.” 

Arthur’s eyes soften, and his hands come up to Merlin’s face, holding it and stroking his thumbs over Merlin’s cheekbones. His eyes flutter shut and he hums. 

“I’m not angry, Merlin. I just spent over 10 years decidedly  _ not _ doing this. I’m sorry that I got a little carried away,” Arthur says quietly. 

Merlin opens his eyes again. Arthur’s were so blue, and so familiar, and filled with something that made Merlin’s magic thrum under his skin. 

“This is— it means something to me, Arthur. It can’t just be because you feel like it.” 

Arthur smiles. 

“Come on, Merlin. Keep up. You know me. Do you really think I would kiss you only because I feel like it? After everything we’ve been through together?” 

Merlin shakes his head. 

“No. No, I guess you wouldn’t. You  _ are _ hopelessly romantic, after all.” 

Arthur snorts. 

“I really have to be if I’m seriously trying to romance  _ you _ of all people.” 

Merlin shrugs, grinning. 

“So that’s the real reason why you replaced my entire wardrobe.” 

Leaning in closer and letting his eyes wander from Merlin’s lips up to his eyes, Arthur returns his grin, voice barely more than a whisper when he says, “Well, it’s so much more fun to unwrap gifts that come in a nice packaging.” 

And then Arthur kisses him again, much more gentle and longing this time, and Merlin thinks his heart is either about to give out or to jump out of his chest. His magic wraps itself around them both, and he swears they’re floating a few inches above the ground. He kisses Arthur back with all that he has, and he can barely believe that his lips are actually moving against Arthur Pendragon’s right now, and that it’s so much better than any kisses he ever imagined. 

So, of course he has to try and ruin it. 

“Why now?” he mumbles into the kiss. Arthur pulls back and sighs. 

“Because I had a talk with Gwen. Got her go on this. Alright? Now. Less talking and more kissing,  _ Mer _ lin.”

Merlin hums, unable to shake the ridiculous smile he knows is dancing around his lips. 

“Yes, Sire,” he says, and reconnects their lips. 

Well, okay. Maybe Merlin was a little too fast in judging the book that is his day by its cover. As he’s standing there kissing the man his soul feels connected to, he thinks it might just be the greatest fucking day of his life. 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr @sunsetcurveofficial


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